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Does the world ever stand still? Every December snowstorm it does. Have you ever walked alone upon a freshly fallen snowfall at night? Your breath catches as you inhale the cold air. The only sound is the crunch of your footsteps on snow that no one has treaded but you. There, against a dark velvet backdrop, the brilliant stars appear reachable. The cold doesn’t bother you. Instead, the crisp, frigid air exhilarates. You look around at your yard, the neighborhood, trees and roads, and all is blanketed by white. The wildlife is nestled away. No activity. No cars. No passersby. All tucked safely in warmth somewhere. The earth is quiet. Peaceful. A Silent Night. I wonder if this tranquil sense of being is how the shepherds felt when gazing upon a baby in a manger. I wonder if this joyous awe is how the church goer feels at Christmas Eve candlelight service. And I wonder if this same beauty is how the lonely elderly widow feels when a Christmas gift with dinner invitation is left by her door. Even the forecast of snow seems to bring out the best in humankind--offering a chance to stay together indoors. More endearments of “I love you” and prayers are whispered. Goodwill increases. During many snowstorms, I remember my mother pulling meat from the freezer to thaw for soup. Her beautiful features full of excitement and love that her children were all together under one roof to feed and nurture again. I remember my father throwing on his bulky winter coat, gloves and boots, determined to help neighbors as the blizzard strengthened. And December snowfall, well, I believe that’s even more special. Why else would songs be written about white Christmases? And holiday movies created with cozy scenes of home and hearth against a backdrop of white? I imagine December snowfall as God’s way of slowing down the world from the season’s hectic activities. It’s then when we can remember the true gifts all around us from the magic of a child’s giggle to the bygone recollections of an elderly relative. Yet the greatest gift, I believe, lies nestled in a manger. The gift of Hope. The Hope that is offered to all, but perhaps, means more to the weary soul that no matter what has happened in life, they are loved, wanted, and matter in this world. As I write this, snow is gently falling outside. My Christmas tree is lit, my loved ones are safe, and I look through the window far beyond the snowcapped trees to the acres beyond. Nightfall is approaching. Turning back to the dining room table, wrapping paper and gifts lie in disarray with unpacked groceries on the Formica…still so much to do. But not tonight, I decide. I slip on my boots and coat, whistle for my boxer, Jake, and head outside into the wintry splendor. The earth will be standing still again. I just know it. And I will breathe in the peace, the love and the wonder that only a December snowfall can bring as I imagine shepherds long ago on a night such as this. A silent night. A holy night. A night to remind us to slow down, look and listen, and maybe we’ll just see that brilliant star leading us to a more peaceful place--a place full of stillness and wonder. Merry Christmas. ~Karina Garrison
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